


Found

by FaiaHae



Series: Best Laid Plans [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Genji's still working on that whole inner peace thing, Getting Together, Hanzo kicked Genji out instead of killing him, Injury Recovery, M/M, Monster Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Strangers to Lovers, Touch-Starved Hanzo Shimada, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada, Young Hanzo Shimada, background Angela/Genji/Zenyatta, background genji polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-12-26 04:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12051297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaiaHae/pseuds/FaiaHae
Summary: Hanzo's not sure why he cares so much about the American he's just found full of shrapnel in a sewer outside of Shimada castle. But he does, and even if that's going to be trouble he has to see it through.No matter the cost.





	1. Starting from the bottom

Hanzo Shimada would not have been described by anyone as a caring man.

As the leader of a yakuza clan he had to be a steel fortress- he trusted no one, he showed no weakness, he listened to the advice of his elders and then did what would be the most effective. He may not have always listened to advice, but he got results. People feared and respected him, but they did not love him.

He had not heard a caring word since the day five years prior that he had thrown his 17 year old brother out onto the street and closed the gates in his face.

Genji had not even had the decency to act surprised.

 

So he was rather at a loss for what he was doing.

 

He had been meditating as was his custom, in the predawn light of the garden nearest the edge of the castle compound. He enjoyed the study in contrasts as the peace of the predawn silence gave way to the sounds of the city outside. It reminded him to know that he was not an errant tyrant on a hill. He could not lose sight of his feet on the ground and become too indulged in pleasures or distractions.

 

But distractions seemed to be the order of the day, because there was a sound from behind the wall. He might not have heard it at all- but the city’s silence was absolute, and his hearing was sharp. It sounded like breathing- 

No.

That was only an attempt at breathing.

 

Before Hanzo could fully understand what he was doing- belatedly justifying his interest by way of keeping control over his city- he had scaled the tree that leaned against the compound wall and was settled on top of it. 

He looked down.

For a brief moment- there was nothing. The compound was surrounded by a water channel- it ran low in the summer and high in the winter as the rainy season rolled in, but it was spring. The water was low and sprinkled in flower petals, and on the side of the channel was a shape Hanzo only noticed as it made another ragged, broken sound. 

He dropped, soundlessly, to the rail at the side of the gutter- and then down into it with a light splash. He wasn’t acknowledged, but as he moved across the water there was another hacking cough.

He stood over the shape- his eyes adjusting to the odd light mixture of predawn and the streetlamps, angled away and towards the road.

He realized, now, that the body he’d assumed from a distance to be a soldier or struck down shimada guard was a  _ kid.  _

Well, not a kid, some part of him recognized the man was about his age. But certainly too young to be bleeding out in a city gutter. He let out another hacking noise, shifting his weight. He was wrapped in some kind of red and gold shawl- the red must be disguising the blood because he practically reeked of it. 

Hanzo’s heart twisted so intensely that it startled him, but he couldn’t think about it right then, could only drop his knees into the inch of water and pull back the cloth.

  
The man’s chest was a mess of torn fabric, bullet holes, and blood. It looked like someone had shot him full of shrapnel at almost point blank range. Hanzo let his gaze follow the path of the bullets up his chest- and found himself caught in the man’s gaze. 

His eyes are gold, and to Hanzo’s complete shock, they’re filled with tears. There’s blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth. 

 

Hanzo has no idea what he’s doing as he activates the communicator at his ear. He’s arguing furiously with himself-  _ Can’t let the shimada reputation for keeping order be tainted, should just get rid of the body. Shouldn’t allow for unnecessary collateral damage to civilians, he’s clearly not a civilian he’s in body armor and a foreigner at that. Should find out who he works for if there’s another force in town, could do that by finding the communicator and tracing his gear. _

 

In the end, he places a call. It’s picked up by a voice that is practically choked off by hate.

 

**_What the fuck do you want._ **

 

Hanzo has to take a breath to calm himself.

“Are you still living with the Swiss surgeon?”   
**_Do you think I’d have fought the elders for some one night stand, Hanzo?_ **

“I need her assistance”

**_Go fuck yourself. I’m not sending anyone I love into your territory and don’t you think for a minute you could make me-_ **

Hanzo sends a picture through the com link. There’s a long pause before it’s opened.

**_...Did you do this?_ **

 

Hanzo’s chest pulls tight. There was a time that his brother would have simply taken that for granted. There was a time where his phone call would have gone unanswered.

“No.”

There was a time that Genji wouldn’t have believed him.

**_We’ll be there in 10, and I am coming armed to the teeth-_ **

There’s a sound like an argument, and the snap of a commlink being yanked off. 

 

**_Shimada-san._ **

It’s a new voice now, a woman’s. Strained and tight with fury, but professional. 

**_Open a video feed._ **

Her japanese is perfect. Why does he care? Why is he letting her order him around?

He opens the video feed. The man lets out another hacking cough.

**_Fuck. We’re not going to get there fast enough. Check him to see if he’s got a biotic emitter on him._ **

Hanzo is almost gentle as he looks, shifting the fabric to look for a backpack or pouch. The woman tells him once he’s found it- a small disc. He follows instructions, once again cursing himself as he does, and presses it to the man’s chest. It opens- spilling gold light across the wounds- which already begin to look better. The man’s expression changed slightly- though his eyes remain fixed on Hanzo. Shock. He opens his mouth as though trying to speak and Hanzo presses a finger to his mouth.

“You are not healed yet. Don’t give your lungs any more trouble.”

His voice sounds cold to his ears, and he had spoken in japanese, but the man must have been reassured by something in it, because he smiles. 

He looks like a mess- blood leaking out the corners of his mouth and dried tear tracks on his cheeks- but for a brief moment Hanzo is entirely stunned by how  _ beautiful  _ the man is. His gold eyes are feverishly bright, but his smile is disarming. 

_ That is not good. That does not bode well at all.  _

 

**_Shimada-san, I need you to carry him up to the road._ **

 

Before he can think too much more about it Hanzo obeys- pulling the man into his arms and up out of the water. He braces himself a moment, and does a running jump for the edge of the gutter. 

He misses, with the extra weight, but he puts more force into the foot that touches down on the slope then he has ever needed to in his life and makes it up to the sidewalk on the second push with a hand landing that has the man in his arms curling tighter against his chest. 

“Shoot darlin’-” The words are no more than a squeak, but Hanzo raises an eyebrow at both the accent and the language. 

_ An American. _

“You’re a long way from home.” he mused. Some part of him was trying to pretend he was talking to himself and not the man in his arms, but it was doing an awful job. He’d spoken in English.

The man let out a surprised little noise at that, and then his lungs seemed to remember they were full of blood and he let out another rattling cough. 

“Don’t try to talk yet.” Hanzo’s tone is the one he uses on his soldiers, and the man’s mouth snaps shut again. Hanzo almost regrets it for a moment, but as he looks down at the man’s face it doesn’t look scared. Only...sheepish? Embarrassed?

Odd. 

It doesn’t take long for a nondescript black car to come to a screeching halt in front of them. His muscles tighten, ready to fight if he has to.

His brother’s girlfriend jumps out of the car- a radiant woman still in her nightclothes with blonde hair and blue eyes. She doesn’t wait for a confirmation or pause, she just pulls the back doors of the van open and pulls out a stretcher. 

Hanzo lowers the man onto it and climbs into the back of the car, bracing for an argument, but the woman just slams the doors shut once everything is inside and hops back into the driver's seat.

 

And there, across from him, is Genji. 

 

His chest tightens to the point of nearly passing out himself, but Genji seems content to get straight to work. He tosses the red and gold cloth at his brother with a tight ‘hold this’ and moves to begin getting the armor off of the man’s chest. Hanzo wishes there were some way to assist, but he has absolutely no medical training. Better to not make it worse. He keeps his eyes on the cloth in his lap, and he’s startled when a hand closes around his. He looks up.

 

In the corner of his eye Genji looks positively terrified, but the man on the stretcher is just looking at Hanzo as though it’s taking all of his strength to keep his eyes focused and his grip strong. Perhaps it is. Hesitantly, Hanzo closes his hand around the other man’s. 

“Do you know what happened?” Genji’s voice is clipped- most of his attention is on a pair of what look to be tweezers in his hand that he’s using to remove pieces of shrapnel. The man opens his mouth and Hanzo glares at him, waiting for him to close it again before answering.

 

“I don’t. I heard him at around 5.30. I didn’t wait long to call you, but I’m not sure how this could have happened right outside of the gates, I heard no gunshots outside previously.”

“How do you know him?”

“I don’t.” 

Genji shooks him a disbelieving look but Hanzo meets his gaze dead on. Genji has always been able to spot a lie, and Hanzo is more then happy to challenge him to look for one. 

Genji’s suspicion fades to shock. 

“You-”

The man makes a noise, his hand closing in a vice grip around Hanzo’s. Hanzo closes his other palm around it, rubbing circles on the wrist with his thumb. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Why? But the man’s expression calms again, and he almost smirks.

“Thank you darlin’”. He barely breathes the words. Hanzo sighs.

“I get the impression you’re not used to staying quiet.”

The man just smiles a confirmation. Hanzo’s chest twists. The man’s sheer tenacity is impressive- he’d clearly been in the water a while, after being shot in the chest and heavens know what else, and here he is smiling at quips. Hanzo knows there’s no way he could be that warm and friendly ever, let alone with a chest full of shrapnel. 

 

He looks down at his watch, remembering his routine and finding that he doesn’t really care about what his day was supposed to hold. 

This man is going to be trouble. 


	2. Indecision

The surgeon is really giving off the impression that she wants Hanzo to be gone already, but the American hasn't released his wrist and none of them have the willpower to try to hard to change that. The one moment Hanzo shifted away the man started trying to talk again and everyone was thrown back into action by the startling amount of blood he was coughing up. So there he stayed. 

 

Hanzo isn't sure where they've ended up- it looks like a fully equipped clinic but it doesn't seem to be staffed aside from the harried blonde and an omnic in temple clothes who was quick to assist with the surgery- calming the American and using what looks like small magnetic forces to guide the smallest pieces of shrapnel out of the wound. When the man is stabilized the omnic is the one to finally address him. 

 

“Shimada-san.” his Japanese is a bit metallic, but perfectly intoned in a voice that could have calmed a forest fire. 

“I am Zenyatta.” 

Hanzo inclines his head respectfully, but doesn't take his eyes off of the American. 

“Thank you for your assistance.” 

“and for yours.” 

Hanzo lifts his head at that, grimacing. 

“I was no help.”

“You brought him to us, did you not?”

“Anyone would have.” His voice sounds hollow to his own ears. A decent person would have. But he was not even that. 

“I think in this case someone may have considered it the extent of their obligation to call a standard ambulance,and he would not have survived.” That startles Hanzo. Zenyatta’s voice is certain.

“....What makes you think that?”

The man's hand twitches in Hanzo’s and he returns his attention to his features, but the American still seems wrapped in serene sleep. 

Zenyatta waits for Hanzo to finish his search for any signs of wakefulness in the man’s face before he continues.

“Emitters are combat technology. They would not have known to check his person for one, nor had any available in the ambulance. Even if they did, Angela is one of the best surgeons in the world, and I am not without my particular skillset. With all of that it was still a very near thing.” 

Hanzo grimaced, holding the Americans hand tighter. He could feel his pulse against his fingers, and that finally began to calm him. 

“Are you ready to talk to your brother?”

Hanzo grimaced. 

There was guilt in his chest- had been since the second he closed the gates- but it was at war with his loyalty, his sense of duty, his faith in his clan. 

The omnic hummed as though he had spoken aloud.

“Indecision lends itself to discord. But perhaps you owe him a debt, for coming at your call for aid, even if it wasn't for your own sake.”

Hanzo can't help but nod at the truth in that and looks around as though noticing for the first time that the room is empty- he had felt the silence rather than noticed the departure. 

“Where is he?”

“Gone with Angela to review medical records and test results. Blood type, that sort of thing.” Zenyatta’s calm manner cuts through Hanzo’s concerns about “records” and he relaxes at the mention of blood type. 

“Of course.”

“He should return momentarily, and then if you are willing we can discuss together how to protect this man. But if you wish no further involvement you may go and rest assured he will be safe here.” 

Hanzo’s hand instinctively tightens around the warmth in his palm. Zenyatta nods, again hearing him when he hasn't said anything. 

It's only another minute before the woman Zenyatta called Angela comes back into the room, Genji in tow. They both seem surprised to see him there, and there's a soft fanning noise as the orbs hanging in the air around the omnic make a fast rotation. 

The atmosphere calms, the tension cut by a rather forceful wave of serenity. The omnic clasps his hands and fixes Genji and Angela with a look that seems to be a warning. 

Angela clears her throat and takes a seat at the man’s other side. 

“...what's your blood type, Shimada-san?” 

“O positive.” 

“Would you be willing-” Hanzo sees Genji move forward as if to say something, but Zenyatta puts a hand against his chest and he stops, “-to donate blood? He's A positive. Genji and I are both B. The biotic emitter is keeping him stable but he's lost too much blood to recover it on his own once the power runs out.” 

Hanzo nods briskly, not letting himself think it through. He's come this far. No backing out now. 

 

It stays quiet as Angela draws the blood and Genji and the omnic busy themselves- taking temperature, blood pressure, and jotting down their notes. Genji doesn’t look over until Angela has finished drawing the blood and has set the American up with an IV.

Genji moves next to him to offer him a glass of water.   
“You should eat something. You may feel a little faint. Normally we’d check your iron levels and make sure you’re not diseased but, desperate times.”

Hanzo snorts at that, surprising himself.

“I keep myself healthy.”

“I know.”

There’s a moment of heavy silence, and then Genji takes the empty glass from Hanzo’s hand and replaces it with a piece of paper.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

Hanzo raises an eyebrow at the familiarity, but looks down at the piece of paper in his hand.

It’s a newspaper article about an American gang called “Deadlock.” There’s a very familiar face in the middle of the page, a cocky grin and a gun pointed to the sky. 

_ Jesse McCree may be the sole survivor of the breakup of the Deadlock Gang. If found- _

Hanzo glances at the year on the newspaper, makes a few assumptions, and does the math.

“He must have been around 17.”

“I was under the impression that you thought what a person does at 17 is a good enough reason to abandon them.” 

Hanzo flinches visibly. He swears he can hear the omnic make a disapproving noise. Genji sighs.

“Well if you decide to make the same mistake twice then I guess I’ll see you at the other end of my sword someday.”

That makes something nearly break in Hanzo’s chest, remembering that that was almost exactly what father had wanted from him. But Genji continued on.

“If you don’t, we’ll be here taking care of him. We’ll call you when he wakes up. You should get home to...” Genji’s face twisted. “...Sojiro.”

Hanzo can’t do anything but nod and stand, handing the paper back to Genji.

“You’ll be at this location?”

Genji smirks, and for a second looks exactly like the kid he was.

“As long as it’s secure. I won’t be a sitting duck.” 

Hanzo allows himself the briefest smile at that. It was understandable that Genji didn’t trust him. 

“...Thank you for picking up the call.” Is the best he can manage, and he allows Zenyatta to show him the way out of the complex. 


	3. Waking up

Hanzo had managed to get through two days and rounds of questioning, meetings, strategy talks, and formalities when the com went off again. He politely retreated from a meeting between his father and the leader of another clan, his absence barely noticed. He hit the confirmation.

 

Genji cut in immediately.

**_You need to get back here as soon as you can he’s awake and he’s panicking._ **

Hanzo glanced around him, ensuring his security before he answered.

“Shouldn’t the omnic be well equipped to manage that?”

He tried not to let the concern bleed into his voice. He’s not sure if he’s succeeded.

**_He was fine when I was with him but once Angela came in he shut down. He was quiet for a bit but when she started trying to get closer he started yelling in Spanish. Zenyatta has a translation but it’s too long to read over the phone._ **

“...Am I going to be able to help?”

**_He trusts you._ **

Genji’s voice sounds as bitter as Hanzo feels. He takes another look around him.

“I’ll be there soon.”

 

___

 

Hanzo takes much longer than he planned, and the sun is setting in earnest by the time he makes his way to the clinic and hops the fence inside. He’d had to take rooftops for secrecy, and the process of locating the clinic from above had been difficult. Genji meets him at the door, looking exhausted, and practically happy to see him.

“Took you long enough. Do you wanna go in to see him or see the translation first?”

“Which do you think would be wise?”

Genji gives him a heart-stoppingly happy grin.   
“Translation.”

 

It’s a lot, and most of it very creative swear words that nearly defy Zenyatta’s language programs. Jesse had been good and scared of Angela specifically, and said a lot about not “trusting the suits again, not making that mistake twice fuckity nope nope.”

Hanzo taps a specific line. 

_ Know all I need to about you, Valkyrie. _

“What does this refer to?”

Angela looks downright uncomfortable.

“That’s classified information.”

Hanzo gives her a deadpan stare.

“Would you rather me hear it from you or from your guest?”

Genji’s expression twists at that.

“Bro- Hanzo. I mean- urgh. Aniki. Whatever we tell you or he tells you, Sojiro must not know.”

Hanzo gives that some thought. His father couldn’t know that he’d saved an enemy combatant anyway- nor that he had contacted Genji. But the weight of these secrets was starting to make him question why he was doing this.

Zenyatta put a hand on his shoulder, orbs spinning, and he felt the weights in his chest lift. His head stopped spinning. He picked out details.  _ Why am I doing this? _

Images, impressions, but not out of control. The doors in Genji’s face, the sword in his father’s hand, the weight of the shimada legacy, the man with the golden eyes weeping as he bled out in an alley.

_ I am doing this because it is right.  _

“Thank you.” Hanzo says absently, and then he looks to Angela.

“I am aware of the need for secrecy, but I think we all need to share information to have our answers, and to help.”

Angela glances to Zenyatta, and there’s a slight metal whirr when Zenyatta nods.

 

Angela sighs.

“I’m a combat medic for an organization called Overwatch. I’m on leave right now because things have been tense on base, but I work in the field with them. My suit has bionic wings. It’s a term I’ve been called before, but...I don’t know where he would have seen the suit in action.”

Hanzo nods, absently. Overwatch. He’s glad, suddenly, that it had been Angela his brother had run away with. If it came to a fight Sojiro would certainly have his hands full. 

 

He follows Zenyatta to the door of the room marked with McCree’s charts and passes him to go inside. The man looks up, tense and ready to bolt, but relaxes when he sees who it is.

“Reckon I oughta thank you for saving my life.”

Hanzo settles himself on the seat next to the bed, picking his words carefully.   
“I’m afraid there wasn’t much I could do aside from call for aid.” He hopes his English is clear. 

McCree’s eyes darken at that, and he looks tired.

“Well you still saved my life. A shame about your contacts.”

Hanzo settles back in the chair, eyeing the door.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about Ms. Angela. I was simply aware that my brother had settled in with a capable surgeon.”

Hanzo hardly realized the suspicion in McCree’s face was there until it was gone. 

“Ziegler’s a goody two-shoes with a savior complex. She’s a good doctor, certainly, but she’s happy to pull bullets out of a man and then send him off to a firing squad.”

Hanzo raises his eyebrows at that.

“I hope my brother will rid her of that tendency. He is nothing if not....chaotically aligned.”

The man grimaces.

“Didn’t think there was any changin’ her, but I’m not back in a prison cell yet so maybe.”

“Perhaps that is because she doesn’t know who you are, apart from your name.”

Jesse gawks.

“All the information she could find was my name??”

“Some old wanted posters for a defunct criminal organization, and blood type.” Hanzo flicks the blood bag. Jesse glances at it.

“Where’d that come from anyway?”

“Me.”

The shock at the doctor’s lack of information was nothing compared to the look on the man’s face now. Hanzo smiled, despite himself.

“You didn’t think your goody-two-shoes doctor would rob a blood bank, did you?”

“Aw shucks. I just...didn’t....” His face falls, and he curls up a little bit in the blankets.

“Figured you’d done your bit dropping me off. ‘Specially since I up and grabbed you when you were tryin’ to leave. Didn’t think you’d be too keen on doin’ me more favors.”

Hanzo frowns, the assessment a little too on the mark for how he  _ should  _ feel and oceans away from what he did. 

He sighs.

“I couldn’t leave you to die once, I’m not leaving you with people you don’t trust not to put you out there again.”

The man’s expression warms like stepping out into the sun.

“I’m real lucky it was you to find me.”

Hanzo doesn’t have anything to say to that, and the man seems tired enough to sleep back into sleep. The Yakuza heir shifts in his chair and Jesse’s eyes open slow.

“...When’re you coming back?”

“As soon as I can.” On impulse, he reaches out to touch the man’s hand.

“I know nothing of Dr. Ziegler, but Genji is my brother, and he will not let anyone harm you.”

The man smiles another blinding look, seeming a little hazy.

_ Probably has plenty of painkillers in his system. _

“Later then, darlin’.”


	4. The Truth

It was too long before he was able to come back. His hours long absence had not gone without note, and his father’s faith in him only went so far. A part of him was trying to pretend that he had no intention of going back at all, flinging himself back into the processes and maintenance of the family business. But he was far too distracted. 

_ Golden eyes. Warm hands. Tears. The tension in his face when the door had opened. The way he’d calmed when Hanzo had entered the room.  _

He wanted to be back, wanted to again be trusted and talked to. He was starting to miss Genji like the sensations in a limb he’d cut off. He hadn’t missed him this much since that first year without him, but seeing him again brought it all back. 

 

He snuck out the window when everyone had fallen asleep.

 

The building had to have an alert system, because Zenyatta greeted him at the door when he arrived.

“Hello Hanzo. I’m afraid Genji and Angela are sleeping, but I think I heard our guest awake some time ago. He’s made his way to the kitchen by himself, since he seemed so intent on sneaking I thought I might insult him if I offered my aid.” 

The voice is placid, but there’s an undercurrent of amusement. Hanzo smiles, despite himself.

“I’m afraid that unlike your guest, I may need direction to the kitchen.”

 

Zenyatta seemed to have been correct about the sneaking, because Jesse McCree looks incredibly guilty when Hanzo and the omnic enter the kitchen, practically fumbling his coffee cup.

“Uh, Hiya. Come here often?”

He winces visibly at his own bad line, but Hanzo only smiles and crosses the room to pour himself a cup from the coffee pot. 

“Not as often as I would like.”

He swears he hears Zenyatta snicker before drifting out of the room again and down the hallway, humming. 

Hanzo suspects that he’s letting them judge his distance away by the sound, because it stops when McCree speaks. 

“Was starting to think you weren’t coming back. Genji didn’t seem to think it was likely that you would.”

Hanzo grimaces.

“My brother does not have much faith in me, though it’s absence is deserved.”

McCree nods.   
“He said a little about it. Not much, just that he got kicked out. Sounds like it was more your pop’s decision.”

Hanzo doesn’t bother to correct him. That would take far too much explanation, and he’s safer if he doesn’t know much about the Shimada clan. 

“I did not look after him as a brother should.”

“Seems like you’re tryin’ to now.”

Hanzo smiles, taking a sip of his coffee cup.

“I’m afraid you’re giving me too much credit.”

The confused  little tilt of McCree’s head is more attractive then it has any right to be. He looks skinnier than he did in the gutter- the shawl swallows his shoulders and makes him look even smaller. Hanzo has to try to remind himself that the man across from him is military. He looks more cub then wolf. He has to ignore the question implied by the gesture.

 

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You’re already well aware of my personal failings, and I don’t even know how you ended up with a chest full of shrapnel outside my door.”

There- a soldier’s wariness in his eyes, cautionary formality in his posture. But he looks unsure.

“I’m afraid there’s a bit of a...conflict of interest. Here.”

Hanzo raises an eyebrow, taking another swig of coffee.   
“Could that have something to do with overwatch?”

Jesse’s expression closes off like a door slamming shut. Hanzo lets the moment hang in the air as he refills his cup. He’s almost glad for the other man’s distrust. Grateful for his survival instincts. 

_ He’s safer that way.  _

“Zenyatta possesses a Spanish translator. You called Angela “Valkyrie”. I had to push her a bit to explain what that signified, but the way she explained it you would have had to known something about Overwatch to know who she is.”

McCree’s shoulders relax by a tiny degree.

“So you’re not...” 

Hanzo half-smiles.

“As I said, she is my brother’s partner.”

Jesse stares into his cup like he’s trying to read tea leaves, but his shoulders finally relax.

“Overwatch hires a lot of dangerous people to do their dirty work.”

Hanzo’s expression must have showed his alarm, because McCree reached across the table to touch the back of his hand.   
“It ain’t like that. The good doctor doesn’t know me or the work I do. But her organization....” He grimaces. “Overwatch isn’t full of heroes. Not anymore.”

“She said there were tensions at her base. She’s on leave.”

McCree’s expression darkens.

“Smart of her.”

When Hanzo comes back to the table after refilling his cup again he sits next to McCree, leaning absently into his side. He’s warm, and he smells like cigars and gunpowder. Oddly soothing, though Hanzo suspects he might be one of the few people that feels that way. The Yakuza in him is demanding an explanation, but the side of him that is human and weary isn’t bothering to think, just moving closer to the warmth in the cold kitchen. 

McCree tenses and Hanzo starts to move away again, worried, but the other man wordlessly holds out his good arm, and Hanzo moves back again underneath it. He’s folded into Jesse’s chest, swallowed up by soft fabric and that same overwhelming warmth of his scent. There are spices underneath it, and Hanzo can only adjust slightly to be more completely and comfortably buried in the warmth. Hanzo tries not to think too much. Tries not to think about how long it’s been since anyone touched him at all- let alone with affection. How long it’s been since he’s been held- surely not since he was a child. McCree’s arm tightens, as though he’s thinking the same thing. For a long while they just sit and enjoy the warmth. 

 

“...if the doc wasn’t able to find out who I am, then why haven’t y’all really been askin’? Aside from earlier... and you’re not pushin’. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for her to leave me well alone, and i’m not sure what I could tell ya...”

He trails off, as though not sure why he’d spoken to begin with. Hanzo takes another sip of coffee, shifting away as reality fades in a bit. It’s unpleasant.

“I think the doctor doesn’t wish for you to overstress yourself again.”

“An’ you?”

Hanzo looks out the doorway and into the dark hall, trying not to consider it emotionally.

“I’ve hardly been open with you. It would be unfair to press when I would not answer similar questions.”

McCree makes an understanding noise, and drops his. Hanzo tries not to miss him.

 

“...Well you know I worked for overwatch, after a fashion.”

Hanzo tries not to let his surprise show on his face, but he must not have done a good job of it because Jesse chuckles. 

“You hauled me out of a gutter, you got the right to keep secrets. Me? Y’all saved my life. Figure as long as you don’t go off running your mouth it’s safer for you to know.”

Hanzo’s insulted at the implication of that, and nearly says as much, but McCree holds up an appeasing hand.

“Not saying you would, sugar. Just sayin’ it wouldn’t be safe if you did.”

“I would not.”

“I know.” Jesse takes in a deep, shuddering sigh, and lets it out again.

“Well. Maybe I should take some time to actually figure out for myself how to say it all before I do.”

Hanzo nods. More than fair. He takes a glance at his watch and flinches.

“....I have to go.”

McCree looks like a kicked puppy. Hanzo almost smiles, but settles for placing a hand on his shoulder as he stands.

“I’ll come back.”

“...Okay.” 

McCree doesn’t look too sure, and as Hanzo leaves he’s not sure it’s the truth either. 


	5. The Fall

He comes back.

Hanzo knows his father is beginning to suspect something, but given how many years, criminal charges, and sexual partners Genji got away with he’s hoping that he has some more slack before the noose really closes, in a way that isn’t nearly as metaphorical as it should be. 

It’s daylight this time, and he walks up using the roads, though he’s changed into more casual street attire in the back of a coffee shop and let his hair down to look less conspicuous. 

There’s no such thing as too careful, for a Shimada.

 

It’s Genji who meets him at the door, much more warmly than he was expecting. 

“Aniki! Have you joined the witness protection program? I like the style.”

Hanzo can’t help but roll his eyes, and Genji’s grin gets even wider.

“Your cowboy is taking a nap. I’ll wake him in a bit, come have tea with me.”

 

Hanzo is wary of his brother’s kindness, but is much less surprised by it when he finds Zenyatta in the kitchen already waiting for them. The omnic gives them a cheery wave, levitating at about the height of the other chairs around the table. 

Genji takes the seat next to the omnic, leaning into his side and smiling. Hanzo takes a seat across from them as Genji pours him a cup of tea.

 

“How have things been?”

Genji’s tone is casual, but the words still sting Hanzo in a way he wasn’t entirely prepared for. 

He has to take a moment to breathe before he answers.

“Busy. It seems that keeping up with you took up far less of father’s time then he credited. There have certainly not been any lapses.”

To Hanzo’s surprise, Genji actually snorts at that, but an oddly forlorn look takes over his face and he looks down into his tea for a long while before he says anything else.

“I am sorry, Hanzo.”

That certainly surprises him.

“You have nothing-”

“No, let me finish.” he takes a deep breath and looks up at Hanzo, lines of tension around his eyes.

“You protected me. I know that now. I suspected father wouldn’t have settled for kicking me out but I didn’t realize...when I threatened you and I saw the look on your face I finally realized. I didn’t know. I thought you didn’t want me to be happy, I never thought father wanted me dead.”

Hanzo swallowed, focusing on the pattern on the table. A small part of him was gratified- Genji was saying all of the things he’d initially thought, all of the things he’d felt when he shut the doors.

 

“But I didn’t do a good enough job of protecting you.”

He hardly meant to say it out loud, but once he had Genji comes around the table to give him a tight hug.   
“You did all you could. I missed you.”

“I-” 

Hanzo knows, with certainty, that there is a crossroads in front of him. He knows that if he closes his arms around his brother that his future is going to change.

He does it anyway. 

 

They stay like that for a while- until there’s a yawn by the door and Genji pulls back, grinning.

 

“Ah, welcome back to the world of the living McCree.”

The man raises an eyebrow, not bothering to come up with a decent comeback as he moves to the coffee machine on the counter. 

He seems wary as he returns to the table, sitting on Hanzo’s opposite side and taking a swig of coffee.

“Where’s the doc?”

Genji looks a bit angry at that, and the orbs behind Zenyatta do another rotation. Hanzo the wash of calm- though it drifts by him, not having much effect. Probably aimed at Genji and Jesse.

Zenyatta answers, patting Genji’s leg.

“She’s been called back to headquarters. Something-”

 

Zenyatta stops. There’s a half-second of heavy silence, and then every com and electronic device in the room goes off at once. 

 

Genji’s the first one to get his phone out, and makes a strangled noise. There is an emergency news bulletin displaying across every screen-

 

_ Overwatch Swiss Headquarters Bombed.  _

 

Hanzo is numb with shock. His com starts to go off- messages from the elders and Sojiro in his ear  _ where is he, they need to talk strategy _

Genji is frantic, trying to call Angela. Zenyatta seems to be conducting some kind of computer search as well, eyes dim, the orbs at his back rotating steadily and glowing. McCree is staring at the screen in his hands, deathly quiet. Hanzo looks over, one hand busy as he tries to filter through the incoming messages. 

 

_ Confirmed Dead- Strike Commander Jack Morrison and Blackwatch Commander Gabriel Reyes _

 

McCree’s hands are shaking. 

The man on the right- Reyes- is wearing the same uniform they found Jesse in. 

_ Blackwatch.  _

Everything clicks. Hanzo wonders how Angela didn’t figure it out sooner, but the uniform had been cut off by Genji on the way to the hospital. She probably never saw it. Hanzo glanced up at Genji, trying number after number.

 

He looked down at the news bulletin again. 

...r _ eports some fighting in the building between the two commanders and between overwatch and blackwatch agents shortly before the explosion went off... _

This was not the time to be broach this subject. 

He looks at the messages from the clan.

 

He turns the communicator off. 

 


	6. Fear the Reaper

As the hours pass by sitting with Genji and McCree, his window to return home is closing, and Hanzo is sure that Genji knows it, even between the phone calls to Zurich. Still, the sun moves on and Hanzo sits with Jesse, whose hands are still shaking, and it’s only when he knows his window has closed for good that he offers Jesse a hand and helps him back to his room.

 

Hanzo gently takes the coffee cup from McCree’s shaking hands and holds it in his own. He doesn’t try to push, just looks to Jesse and waits. The other man takes a deep breath.

“Guess I shoulda talked sooner. Fuck.”

“It would not have changed anything.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then explain.”

 

Jesse’s expression was darkening, clouds of guilt.

“I- I have to apologize to your brother I shoulda-”

“You couldn’t have known-”

“But I did!”

The words burst out of him, his eyes alight. He says it again, quieter.

“I did.”

 

_____

 

The mission in Hanamura had felt wrong from the start. Nothing wrong with the targets or the objective- it should have been simple. Talk to a few people about possible gang activity, pay them for their information, leave.

  
The problem was with Gabriel.

 

Jesse’s commander was having trouble keeping it together in a way that was far more literal than anyone else seemed to realize. Something happened- an injury, a little too much time spent in Moira’s lab- and the Gabe that came out wasn’t the same man that went in.

McCree was walking on a tightrope, trying not to piss off the commander too much. Tried not to be too friendly or too familiar with the man he loved like a father he’d never had. He had tried so hard to close off when the man now wearing the blackwatch uniform had made it clear that he didn’t want to hear it.

But something happened.

 

Gabe had been dissolving.

Literally- they were out on patrol and there were wisps of black smoke coming off of him. It got worse when he was upset, and McCree realized that night that when Gabe was mad enough he could see _through_ him, one of his eyesockets bone in the midst of smoke.

Something much have been pretty wrong with the expression Jesse made, because there they were, in a side street in Japan, in front of a castle that _maybe_ was a yakuza base, because they certainly hadn’t gotten any useful information with Gabriel losing his shit.

 

“Pops-”

Gabriel’s skin faded and flashed as his face twisted.

“Shut up, kid.”

“Commander-” McCree tries again, hands off of his weapons, trying not to look too threatening.

Gabriel levels the shotgun at his chest.

“You have no idea what you’re getting into here, ingrate _.”_

 

“All I know is that something happened with Moira after that injury boss-”

The barrel of the shotgun pushes into McCree’s neck as the one eye he can still see goes _red._

“I made you what you are kid, you better not be threatening me-”

“I wouldn’t! I just want to see if you’re okay-”

He lowered the shotgun just a bit, and Jesse can breathe again. But Gabe’s face twists horrifyingly, contorting bone and skin.

“You know what? I don’t think I am.”

He pulled the trigger.

____

 

Hanzo knows very well what happened after that.

Jesse puts his face in his hands.

“I knew something was wrong with him, I shoulda told Jack. I should have passed the word along to Overwatch, sounded the alarm, ‘stead of thinkin’ that I could handle him. Gabe’s always been crazier than a bag of cats when something sets him off. I knew that. I shoulda- fuck.” Jesse took a deep, shuddering breath in.

“Maybe they’d both be alive if I’d told someone. Don’t know what the Hell the doctor did to him but he wasn’t himself.”

 

Hanzo placed a hand just above Jesse’s knee, turning the information over in his mind. He thought of what he might do in the same situation- he thought of his father, he thought of turning off his communicator. Would he have stood up to Sojiro?

No.

 

“You are brave. You did what you thought was right. That is the most that can be asked of anyone.”

“But-”

Hanzo shoots McCree a threatening stare. He quiets.

“There are few who would have stood against what was happening. You chose not to take the cowards out and report him behind his back. You suffered for it- but you stood up for yourself and for the man you thought he was. Don’t blame yourself. We don’t know, yet, what truly happened.”

Jesse has no way to argue with that, so he sighs and settles into the sheets.

“...You stickin around?”

Hanzo smiles at the attempt at sounding casual. McCree looks incredibly self conscious even as he tries to play it cool.

“I believe I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short. Next chapter: the beginnings of an actual romance!


	7. Settling in

Angela returns Genji’s calls after 10 tense hours- Zenyatta and Hanzo have finally gotten him to go to bed with promises that they’ll take vigil over the phone, and Hanzo is drinking tea in the kitchen in a half-awake stupor when Genji’s com goes off. He picks it up.

 

“Hello?”

_ “Who’s this-” _

“Hanzo.”

_ “Is Genji alright?”  _ Angela sounds half-crazed with panic and stress. 

“He is fine, simply sleeping. He wore himself out about an hour ago. Would you like me to wake him?”

“ _ Oh- no. Please don’t. Someone should be getting some sleep tonight. Let him know when he wakes up that I’m doing alright.” _

“I will, but I would recommend sending him a written message if you have the time. I am sure he would be more reassured by your words rather than mine.”

Angela lets out a laugh that sounds half-strangled by the time it comes out her throat.

_ “You’re probably right. The news is probably making it look pretty bad and- and it’s even worse then they’re seeing.” _

Hanzo makes what he hopes is a sympathetic noise, wishing that it had been Zenyatta’s shift when she called. He wasn’t effective with emotional matters.

“ _ Have you gotten anything out of McCree?” _

“No. He seemed upset about the explosion, too much so to be capable of talking.” 

He surprises himself with the immediacy of that response, the ease of the lie. But when he thinks of the man shaking in the bed, blaming himself for their deaths and mourning his mentor, his chest feels tight. Hanzo wants to protect him. 

Angela makes a soft noise through the com line. 

“ _ Everyone’s upset. They were heroes. Morrison and Reyes turned the tide of the crisis- ah. I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll write Genji a message, I have to...god. Identify corpses. Don’t- Don’t tell him that.” _

Her voice is breaking in on itself, and Hanzo pities her despite his mistrust. 

“I will tell him that you are safe.”

_ “Thanks.” _

She’s quiet for a long moment before the com clicks off, and Hanzo lets out a weary sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding.  _ What am I doing here? _

He thinks of Genji’s panic, still hysterical even as Zenyatta worked to soothe him, still holding Hanzo’s hand in a death grip as they eased him into bed. His fear for the doctor. The softness of Zenyatta’s manner when he’d finally managed the bed, pulling the blankets up to Genji’s chin. He had whispered to him- She’ll come home to us soon.

Hanzo thought of McCree and the fear in his eyes. The guilt he knew like an old friend.

Maybe it was time do something he wouldn’t feel guilty about. He sighs, padding off down the hallway to report to Zenyatta and ask where he can sleep. 

 

____

 

The next few days are almost serene, which is ironic considering the mass panic the news is reporting, the leaks, the protests on the street. Hanzo doesn’t watch much of it, spending his time in the kitchen cooking for Genji and McCree. Genji goes out with Zenyatta a few evenings- leaving Hanzo to sit beside the cowboy at the table and talk about everything and nothing. McCree, good to his word, doesn’t press any further about Hanzo’s family and Hanzo offers little. He tells a few carefully constructed stories about Genji’s childhood rebellion and their own falling out. McCree in turn tells much more personal stories of running with gangs across the american south, and the ops he’d run since with Reyes. 

 

Hanzo finds himself enjoying the American’s company despite himself. Jesse is warm and open and so utterly unlike anyone he was allowed to associate with in the clan. Jesse enjoys his company and the way he makes coffee, Jesse is forthcoming with praise. 

 

There’s a heaviness around McCree sometimes, but Hanzo’s becoming proud of the way it dissipates with a joke or a touch or a carefully made cup of coffee. Hanzo’s becoming too fond of the way McCree’s face gets soft when he drawls  _ thanks darlin’.  _

 

The day before Angela is set to return from Switzerland, more than a month since the explosion, Hanzo is playing chess with Zenyatta and thinking idly about what to make for dinner that they would all enjoy when it really hits him. He’s left the clan.  _ He’s abandoned his legacy.  _ It wasn’t even a conscious decision, he’s just never gone back. Genji had replaced his com and destroyed the old one, there were no more vestiges of his old life left- only the bow and arrows he’d carried with him in an instrument case the day of the explosion. This was his  _ home  _ now. 

 

One of Zenyatta’s orbs floats off of the circle around his back and levitates just above Hanzo’s head, emitting the feeling of summer sunlight and cool water. Hanzo’s head is still reeling, but he accepts the comfort. Out loud, he only says,

“What would Angela like for dinner?”

Zenyatta makes a low hum that comes out much more musical than it has any right to.

“I believe you should make ramen. Angela has spent enough time in her home country that it would be good to welcome her back to this one. And you know how Genji and Jesse love when you make it.”

Hanzo finds himself smiling, unburdened, for once.

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea.”


	8. New Look

McCree was tapping his fingers on the table, a loud and unsteady rhythm that was all the more distracting for its lack of cohesion. Hanzo, reading a newspaper, lowered it to look at him. Jesse didn’t seem to notice, staring off into space. 

_ Stir-crazy. Cabin Fever.  _ McCree had been mentioning in colloquialisms that he’d been feeling an unease about being stuck inside. Hanzo neatly folded the paper and stood, finally startling McCree into looking up. 

“Do you need to get anything before we go?”

“...huh?” gold eyes blinked up at him, and Hanzo had to put some effort into steeling his expression. 

“Do you need to get anything out of your room before we go. I suppose there is no need, since I will cover shopping expenses and lunch, although you may want to take one of the books Genji loaned you, because I need to go by the salon and you’ll have to wait. I suppose you could also do with a haircut.”

McCree’s expression stays clouded for a moment, but the sun comes out and it warms to a wide smile. 

“I’ll go grab that book.”

___

 

Their first stop is by chance- McCree is eyeing an advertisement for piercings in a tattoo parlor window with the look of a poor child at an expensive toy store. Hanzo, without missing a beat, goes inside.

 

While Jesse ends up with two black studs, Hanzo finds himself with his ears and the bridge of his nose pierced once he’s gotten started. The next stop is the salon, and once they’re done there McCree is looking significantly less haggard and Hanzo’s undercut has him looking like almost an entirely different person. 

_ Perfect.  _

If McCree has picked up on Hanzo’s intentions with their stops he hasn’t said anything- he seems happy enough to be shuffled between clothing stores. Appallingly, the most notable additions to the man’s new wardrobe all seem to be cowboy themed. 

 

When they reached a shoe store Hanzo turned a corner and found a truly appalling pair of cowboy boots. 

They had  _ spurs.  _

He eyed them for a moment, trying to decide if he would be able to get McCree out of the store before the other man saw them. 

 

He sighed and went to go ask Jesse what his shoe size was.

The blinding smile that he got in return was utterly worth it. 

 

Once Hanzo is sure that he no longer resembles the Shimada heir they take a long walk in the light chill of early fall. The trees all around them are bright oranges and reds, and Hanzo takes in the view as he walks around, grateful to finally be outside again and away from the beige walls of the clinic. Jesse walks along beside him, his hands in his pocket, whistling a song that rings somewhere in the edge of Hanzo’s memory- familiar but forgotten. 

They turn off the sidewalk and settle into a booth of a ramen shop, Hanzo ordering for both of them. He half expects to be recognized- he and Genji used to spend half of their free time here- but there is no recognition in the face of the owner or any of the employees. 

 

Perfect. 

 

“So.”

Hanzo raises an eyebrow at the man across from him, Jesse’s grin wide and his eyes full of mischief. 

“Come here often?” He drawls. 

Hanzo snorts, looking at Jesse appraisingly as he takes another bite of his noodles. Bad pickup line or an observation of how carefully Hanzo has been looking around? He elects for the serious response. 

“Used to, before my brother and I had our falling out.”

Evidently that was the response McCree was looking for, because he nods and digs into his own bowl of ramen- making a noise of satisfaction enthusiastic enough that it almost sounded lewd. 

“Aw man, why’d you stop coming? No offense darlin’, your ramen is fantastic, but this ain’t comparable.”

Hanzo rolls his eyes.

“You should hardly be using my ramen as a standard of comparison.”

“You’re just bein’ modest.” Hanzo doubted that McCree had missed his dodge of the question, but the American had the grace not to push the subject.

“Hardly. My ramen is passable at best, since I began making it for Genji to eat when he got home at 3 or 4 in the morning.” He resisted mentioning that the servants usually cooked. 

“Mm. Maybe I’m biased.” McCree winked, and Hanzo pointedly looked away even as he felt his cheeks warm. 

“You must be.” he managed. McCree’s smile in the corner of Hanzo’s eye got even wider. 

Hanzo focused in entirely on his bowl of ramen, the warmth of those gold eyes burning like a brand in his chest. 


	9. Biased

Hanzo recognizes, somewhere at the bottom of his vast ocean of denial, that he’s in trouble. He can hardly bear to spend time with McCree, and yet whenever he’s out of the American’s company for too long he’s even more uncomfortable- paranoid and fretting. 

 

It doesn’t escape anyone’s notice, with the apparent exception of McCree himself. Angela shoots him knowing glances, Zenyatta offers increasingly to meditate with him. Genji takes it upon himself to corner Hanzo in the kitchen one morning well before McCree wakes up. 

 

“So what are you going to tell him?”

Hanzo doesn’t turn around, flipping a pancake deftly. 

“Tell who, what?”

“Tell the cowboy that you’d like to make him your blushing bride.” 

The pancake  _ almost  _ misses, but at the last second Hanzo shifts the pan to catch it, flipping it in the air again for good measure. 

“Genji-” his tone is warning.

“Or that if it were physically possible you’d have his babies.”

The pancake hits the ceiling on the next toss and comes down on the pan powdered in plaster. Hanzo gives it a mildly offended look and drops it onto the plate, starting over with the next part of the batter. 

“You’re mistaken.”

“Hanzo-”

“Genji-”

Genji lets out a long huff. 

“Why are you lying to me? Why do you feel like you have to?”

That question gives Hanzo pause-  _ can’t, don’t, can’t, won’t- _

He flips the pancake. 

“I am not lying to you.”

“You’re free of the family now. We could even move further away if you wanted- but I doubt even father would recognize you as you are.”

“We cannot stop being vigilant.”

“So you admit that this has to do with the clan.”

“There is-” Hanzo makes an irritated noise, pinching the bridge of his nose. He turns, expecting Genji to be smirking at his breakthrough. What he doesn’t expect is his brother’s expression to be serious, brow furrowed in worry. 

Hanzo freezes, pinned in place by his brother’s stare. 

Genji tries again, tone softer. 

“Brother, I would like you to be happy. I am happy- with Zenyatta, and with Angela- I would like the same for you.”

“I do not-” deserve it. Deserve forgiveness for any of it. The words burn at the back of Hanzo’s throat, twisting in knots with the guilt of leaving the last of the Shimadas without an heir. The guilt for the men he’d killed in their name. The gates, closing again. McCree’s eyes going dark as he bled out, the moment he’d considered leaving him there. 

Genji took the pan from him as Hanzo’s grip on it began to loosen, and flipped the singed pancake before he set it down. 

“Anija,  _ please-” _

There’s a yawn from the doorway, and McCree shuffles over, grabs a cup of coffee and the single plaster-dusted pancake, and sits down at the table. His eyes are puffy from sleep, and Genji and Hanzo watch in mute horror as he takes a bite of the pancake.

“Mornin’.” McCree blinks sleepily at them, seeming to take in their expressions.

“...did I interrupt smthin’?” His voice sounds rough, strained, and Hanzo frowns. 

 

Jesse’s actually looking a little worse than just tired. His face seems flushed, eyes a little glazed.

“McCree-”

He takes another bite of the pancake, finally looks down at it. 

“That’s not powdered sugar.”

Jesse gets out of his seat and moves down the hallway. From where they’re standing, they can both hear the very distinct sound of vomiting. Genji sighs.    
“I’ll get Angela.”

____

 

40 minutes later Angela is cursing about superbugs and antibiotic resistance while she types furiously into her computer. Hanzo is perched at the edge of the bed, on guard duty in case McCree tries to insist he’s fine and run off. 

He hadn’t been very convincing, his voice sounded like he’d been gargling gravel. 

At least the man had quieted for now, with a bowl of Hanzo’s barely-passable ramen in his lap he almost looked content. 

_ Maybe I’m biased. _

Hanzo flushes slightly at the memory, sighing. He could have gone to Rikkimaru, but Jesse had looked so upset that Hanzo had offered to make it instead. The warm expression on the American’s face had put out his annoyance like a flood to a campfire. It was almost embarrassing.

“You okay there? Look like you’re havin’ a whole conversation w’ yourself.” Jesse’s voice pierces right through Hanzo’s thoughts, even strained and soft as it is, and he grimaces.

“Apologies. I am fine.”

Jesse shoots him a doubtful look. Hanzo huffs and passes him a cup of water and another cough drop. 

After downing the water and turning the cough drop from cheek to cheek (Hanzo thought that looked far cuter than it had any right to) Jesse tried again. 

“I know you like to keep your cards close to your chest, but I’m happy to listen to ya anytime you wanna talk. ‘Specially because it’s gonna be a bit hard for me ta-”

He broke off into coughs again and Hanzo refilled his glass from the pitcher. 

Jesse settled for shrugging and giving Hanzo a miserable look. The archer can’t help but smile a little at the puppy dog eyes. 

The corners of Hanzo’s mouth lift as he remembers when they first met. 

“I get the impression you’re not used to staying quiet.” The memory of the ambulance is fresh in his mind- though it seems a lifetime ago, now. Jesse’s expression is warm as he snorts, recognition in his features. 

“...not fond of the quiet.” McCree mumbles, downing another swig of water. Hanzo settles back into his chair with a sigh. 

He considers for a moment.

“...You know, I have never actually been to America.”

He snorts at McCree’s incredulous look. 

“I have been to China and Korea briefly, but no further.”

“...interested in goin’?”

There’s something more acute than curiosity in Jesse’s eyes, though his tone is as casual as it can be under the rough of his throat. Hanzo drums his fingers on his knee.

“Perhaps. It would be good to get away from Japan, since I don’t plan on returning home.”

“...could just leave town.”

Hanzo smiles.  _ Oh, if only. _

“I suppose I may be due for a change of scenery.”

There’s an uncertainty in Jesse’s expression, an unspoken question.

“Of course, I would need a roommate. I hear your real-estate is rather expensive in America.”

“..yer brother?”

Hanzo almost laughed. There was such an open play of emotions in Jesse’s face- hope and worry, fear at misunderstanding.

“Genji is a terrible roommate, and would rather live with his...significant other. Others.” He amends, thinking of how close Genji had seemed with both Zenyatta and Angela.

Hanzo lets himself smirk.

“Besides, I know little of the culture. I may need help acclimating.” 

The corners of Jesse’s mouth twitch, but he doesn’t call Hanzo’s bluff.

“You wanna be roommates then?”

“What a wonderful idea! I accept.”

Jesse’s laughter warmed Hanzo, and he allowed himself a smile.

_ Perhaps I am allowed to be happy. _


	10. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blatant and ridiculous flirting.

Hanzo wondered if McCree had realized that his playful excuse for bringing the cowboy along in their move had fallen through completely- he certainly didn’t have a better one, so he hoped McCree wouldn’t ask. 

 

When all had been said and done the five of them were  _ all  _ moving into a house Angela apparently already owned in the suburbs in Virginia. She had been very excited about going back, though her breezy mention that it was fairly close to the CIA base and Washington DC had not been particularly reassuring. The woman was a force of nature, though Hanzo suspected that some of her ridiculous enthusiasm was compensating for the loss of the Overwatch base. She threw herself completely into the task of getting them all false identification and travel, which baffled McCree just as much as it did Hanzo. 

Her energy didn’t abate in the slightest until they were standing in the entryway of what could more accurately be called a mansion, the boxes already moved inside (Including the ones that should have been far too heavy for the doctor- even just by proportion). She finally stopped, her hands on her hips, nodding her satisfaction.

“I am  _ exhausted. _ ”

Genji snorted, wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“You’ve been running around nonstop for a week. We’ve got furniture, go lie down and I’ll make you some coffee.”

“But I should apply for those hospitals-”

“Go lie down.” Genji’s tone was firm, and he pushed Angela towards Zenyatta, who took her hand to lead her there himself. 

 

Leaving Jesse and Hanzo in the entryway by themselves.

 

There were a few beats of silence that started comfortable and were devolving when McCree turned to Hanzo and gave Hanzo a smile that warms him down to his toes.

“Y’know, coffee doesn’t sound half bad, but I swear I’m half-crazed from cabin fever. You wanna hit the town?”

Hanzo allowed himself the smile blooming up in his chest, but looked away before he could see the way Jesse gawked at him. 

“I’m driving.”

It took the cowboy a few seconds too long to get himself together, and Hanzo had already cleared the laundry room before he thought to protest.

“-Hey wait!”

____

 

McCree really didn’t put up much of a fight, perfectly content to be tucked up next to the window twiddling with the radio while he side-eyed the gorgeous man next to him.

As it turned out, the safe house was in a ritzy enough neighborhood that the idea of a car that “blended in” was a blindingly white convertible. The weather was getting a little colder, but Jesse couldn’t find it in himself to mind when he got to watch Hanzo’s hair whip out like a pennant behind him. The other man was grinning- really grinning, not the little suppressed smiles Jesse had been getting better and better at spotting. 

Hanzo glanced over at him and smirked.

“Really?”

“...huh?”

Hanzo raised a single perfect eyebrow. 

“You are a cliche.”

McCree realizes that he’s stopped changing stations, and some old country tune is blaring out. He covers his confusion up with a grin, tipping the hat he’s holding desperately onto.

Hanzo scoffs, returning his eyes to the road.

They pull out of the neighborhood and into a town center that consists of a few clusters of buildings and parking lots, with a rather pretty library pushed up on the edge of it all.

Hanzo hardly gets the engine switched off before McCree vaults over the door, grinning at him.

“I cannot WAIT for some proper espresso.”

 

Hanzo snorts.

“You know there was an espresso machine at the house?”

McCree fakes a gasp, pushing his palm to his chest.

“But hon’, it’s just not the same if it ain’t some lumberjack beard hipster in a flannel servin’ it to you!”   
Hanzo lets his gaze sweep up and down McCree’s outfit.

“Then perhaps you should be making me coffee.”

Jesse lets out a choked-out laugh as he tries to pretend to be offended.

“Aw c’mon honey, I wear a stetson not a beanie. You’re the one with the studs and the bun.”

“Maybe we’ve found our new calling.”

McCree chuckles as Hanzo locks the car and falls into step beside him.

“Y’know darlin’, you never actually told me what your old callin’ was.”

Hanzo looks up at Jesse with a deadly serious expression, and for a second the cowboy’s heart stutters painfully, thinking he’s just made a deadly mistake. But then the corners of Hanzo’s lips twitch the way he’s learned indicates that Hanzo is trying  _ really  _ hard to keep a straight face.

“Trophy husband.”

McCree snorts so hard he practically chokes on the laughter.

“-what??”

“My family is very rich. My role as the eldest was to look pretty and agree to the most lucrative business- excuse me, I mean  _ marriage _ proposal.”

The smile’s faded out of Hanzo’s eyes, the curl of his lips a little more self deprecating. 

“I’d make you a _ business _ proposal honey.”

McCree winks.

Internally, he cringes. 

_ That was a TERRIBLE line. _

But it can’t have been that bad, because Hanzo’s smiling again, and lordy if bad flirting will keep that expression there then Jesse’s plenty willing to humiliate himself.

Jesse’s line of thinking is cut off by Hanzo, suddenly much closer than before, smiling up at him with the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. 

“If you did, I might even accept it.”

McCree’s brain just halts, mouth hanging open. Hanzo just smirks and walks up to the counter, leaving Jesse to stare after him. 

 

Oh boy. He’s fucked. 


	11. Enough

Jesse did, in fact, ask for a job application while they were buying coffee. That earned him a giggle and a grinning cashier informed him that absolutely no one does paper applications anymore, seriously, just google it.

 

That had Jesse pouting, but a glance over to Hanzo revealed that same twitch at the corners of his mouth, his shoulders shaking from barely suppressed laughter. Meeting Jesse’s eyes, Hanzo finally let out a snort.

“You are ridiculous.”

“You like me.”

“Perhaps I do.”

Jesse, like the smooth motherfucker he is, chokes on his coffee.

Hanzo has to suppress a snort at that too, though he reaches out and gives Jesse a few firm pats on the back as he coughs, his eyes watering.

McCree managed to look up as the other man pulls his hand back, wrapping his palms around his coffee mug and really smiling.

“Is it that surprising?”

Jesse blinks rapidly as he tries to process the question.

“Uh. Kinda.”

Hanzo’s expression actually starts to fall a bit.  
“Is it unwelcome-?”

“NO!”

A few people jump as Jesse yells a lot louder than he meant to, but he hardly cares, reaching across the table to fold his hands over Hanzo’s on the coffee cup.

“Darlin, that’s- that’s mighty fine. Rather fond of you m’self. Just uh. Didn’t expect your interest. You-”

McCree has to pause to take a breath, but Hanzo doesn’t interrupt him. He’s patient, there’s a warm hope in his eyes.

“...You’re a god damn angel. You’re gorgeous, quick as a whip, an’ frankly I can’t imagine why you’d be interested in lil ol’ me, but god I’d be a right fool to not accept it.”

Hanzo snorts, though his expression is becoming harder to read.

“I am no angel.”

“Saved my life, honey.”

Hanzo doesn’t have a comeback for that one, and looks into his mug for a moment as though he’s reading tea leaves. Jesse reaches for his hand again, and Hanzo tangles their fingers together and smiles, slowly.

“I do not think I could have done anything else.” he says, quietly. The sincerity of it strikes Jesse to his core, and he finds himself a bit at a loss for how to respond.

“I think anyone else woulda left me or called someone who woulda killed me or turned me over to the police.”

 

Hanzo is struck by how much the exchange mirrors the one with Zenyatta.

_Emitters are combat technology. They would not have known to check his person for one, nor had any available in the ambulance. Even if they did, Angela is one of the best surgeons in the world, and I am not without my particular skillset. With all of that it was still a very near thing._

A very near thing.

Hanzo’s hand tightens on McCree’s reflexively and the cowboy winces, Hanzo’s hands are steel and sinew. The archer, alarmed, starts an apology and to pull away, but McCree easily catches him again.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Hanzo’s mask falters for only a fraction of a second, but McCree was trained to read people in an interrogation room- he knows how to look. He sees anguish, relief, and something warm he’s too scared of his own bias to name.

Hanzo’s grip tightens again, more controlled this time.

“...Even with the best I could do, it was very nearly not enough.”

“Aw honey. No use worryin’ about nearly. We’re here, aren’t we? I’m here, gettin’ to look at you. That’s the best of all possible worlds.”

Hanzo actually flushes, and McCree feels a stupid grin across his features. He matches Hanzo’s grip. Tangling their fingers together again.

“I’ve made it, because of you. And I’m just happy we’re together.”

Hanzo smiles, and lord if it isn’t the most beautiful thing Jesse’s ever seen.

“So we’re together, are we?”

“I sure hope so.”

Hanzo snorts.

“Then we are in agreement.”

 

It’s not the most romantic way for their conversation to go, but McCree’s still happy to settle back into his chair and drink his coffee one handed, because he’s certainly not letting go of Hanzo any time soon.


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse before they get better. (The final setup to "Forever hold your peace", where shit goes south.)

Weeks gave way to months easily, and months gave way to years. Hanzo had thought that living with not just Genji but both his significant others would wear on him, but it was oddly effortless. Genji and Zenyatta opened a yoga studio with liberated funds from the clan, Angela got her job in the local hospital, and Hanzo and McCree ended up something adjacent to “retired.”

 

They spent what was probably a ridiculous time in the yoga studio, or travelling, or just home cooking. McCree and Hanzo drove to Santa Fe and McCree showed him around his hometown, telling stories that got progressively less legal the later they were chronologically.

 

Hanzo knew he should open up in turn, tell him about the clan.

But the time never seemed right.

 

As it turned out, there was never going to be a right time.

McCree had learned enough to teach a few classes at the studio, and Hanzo was waiting for him to park the car so they could start their slot.

His back was to the window, his foot tapping along with the sound of the rain as he listened to the usual backdrop of traffic. He checked his watch again. Parking in DC was bad- was always bad- but McCree was pretty careful about leaving early-

 

Thinking on it later, if he hadn’t been so paranoid he would have missed the explosion entirely. It almost sounded like another blast of thunder, the same ones that had been going steady all day. But the blast echoed a bit too much to be thunder, and Hanzo was off like a shot, Genj’s shout of surprise behind him. He didn’t have to run far before he smelled smoke, and he took off down an alley towards where Jesse usually parked the car. 

 

The ambulance wails spurred him on, and he rounded the corner to the dizzying flash of lights and a huge column of smoke coming from what used to be the car. Jesse was lying on his side on the sidewalk, blood pooling around him.

 

“Jesse!” Hanzo dove, landing on his knees and cupping his hands around Jesse’s face.    
“Jesse can you hear me? Please-”

Jesse groaned, and Hanzo felt his heart skip a beat. He heard a strangled noise behind him and he didn’t have to look to see that Genji had followed him. 

The ambulances finally arrived and Jesse was pulled away from his arms. Everything gave way to a blur from there- he wasn’t sure what Genji told them to be allowed to ride in the ambulance, but it worked. They were taken to Angela’s hospital, and Hanzo’s next blurred memories were the white of her hair and her hand on his shoulder, a sense that everything was going to be alright rather than really hearing her say so. The police came and went- thank god for Genji, who explained what happened easily and with enough sincerity that they had no trouble believing him. The studio cameras would confirm it all, anyway. Hanzo’s mind was pulled abruptly from the almost pleasant emotional oblivion of shock when he heard the next statements.

 

“...Preliminary findings is looking like it was a car bomb. Do you know who would have wanted to hurt Jesse McCree?”

“No! That wasn’t even his car-”

“Do you know who would have wanted to hurt you or your brother?”

 

There were many answers to that. Too many, in fact.

 

“...My brother and I are just yoga teachers. We have no enemies here.”

There was another layer of meaning in that sentence, but Genji had delivered it without the emphasis on the last word. The police officer nodded.

“We’ll call you if we find anything else. Let us know if you think of anything.”

 

He was barely gone from the room when Genji looked to Hanzo, the weight of all he hadn’t said like a lead weight on his features.

“They’re not going to let us go.” Hanzo’s voice broke on the last word. 

“What do we do, Anija?”

Genji’s voice was soft, and Hanzo’s chest twisted at the faith in it. Genji was willing to follow him. Genji trusted him to know what to do.

 

He didn’t.

 

___

 

“C’mon honey, I’m okay.”

Hanzo grimaced at Jesse, who was trying to get out of bed. It was his first day home and already he was trying to go back to their usual routine- trying to cook and clean and do laundry.

Hanzo just shot a pointed glance at the metal prosthetic Angela had created for him. McCree’s expression faltered.

 

“Okay, so maybe I’m not. But y’gotta let me live, doll. I can’t keep sittin here or I’m gonna go nuts.”

A fresh wave of guilt swept over Hanzo as he stepped back from the bed. Let him live indeed, when Hanzo was the reason he’d lost his arm.

McCree caught the pain in his eyes.

“Hey- Hanzo, c’mere.”

Hanzo let himself be tugged into the bed and folded against McCree’s chest.

“None of that now, Pumpkin. It wasn’t your fault.“

Hanzo bit back his reply. McCree hadn’t even meant to be in the car, he’d gone back to grab Hanzo’s bag. The explosion was meant as a warning, but-.

“Hey. I can feel that scowl.”

Hanzo buried his face further in Jesse’s chest, smiling a little despite himself. He was so stubborn, strong despite all that had happened.

 

There was a knock on the door.

Genji didn’t wait for a reply, opening it immediately.

“Oh, good. No one’s naked.”

McCree snorted.

“You woulda gotten an eyeful if we were.”

Genji shrugged.

“I’m sure I would have repressed it just as well as the other times. Hanzo, we got a letter from father.”

Genji’s voice had a forced nonchalance, but Hanzo couldn’t stop himself from going rigid and he felt Jesse’s arms tighten protectively around him. 

“What’s that son of a bitch want now?”

 

They had told Jesse bits and pieces, the more personal stories in a life built around a criminal business. 

Hanzo untangled himself, gently but firmly pulling Jesse’s arms away and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“We need to look it over together.”

Jesse frowned but nodded his assent.

 

They walked to the kitchen in silence, not saying anything until they were settled together to read the letter.

 

It was, at least, direct enough. Come back to Japan and lead the clan together or everyone important to you will die, with a neat list of names along with their home address, the address of the hospital angela worked at, and the yoga studio. 

 

“Fuck.” Genji supplied, and then looked to Hanzo. Hanzo just stared at the letter, feeling the life he’d built for himself giving way around him.

“We can’t let him do this.”

He wasn’t sure where the words came from, but he felt a surge of resolve as soon as they left his mouth. He looked to Genji, meeting his brother’s eyes.

“Do you have any contacts in Angela’s organization?”

 

“I can do you one better.”

Angela’s voice came from the door, and they both jumped as they looked up. Angela stood in the doorway, still in her work uniform. There was a small device with the Overwatch crest on it, and when she pushed it with her thumb, a holographic message appeared.

  
RECALL

 

She grinned, and there was steel in her eyes.

 

“We’re with you.”


End file.
